


The Mission

by ritsuko



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brainwashing, Character Death, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Past Relationship(s), Protectiveness, Realization, Shock, shits about to get ridiculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier carries out his mission. But how will it affect him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

". . . with you to the end of the line." Those blue eyes implore him, beg him to come back to himself, to remember just how important it is. Those eyes feel like they're trying to suck him under, a feeling not unlike that of the cryotube, the cocktail of drugs designed to pull him into darkness every time.

_Steve!_ A voice screams within him, battering at his restraints. The Winter Soldier learned a long time ago that the voice was bad, that everytime it woke in his mind, the higher ups were not pleased. It always lead to more pain, more wipes, more training for obedience.

The soldier snarls, going for the other man's throat. He will not be tricked so easily. He can feel his own face straining with emotion, another weakness. Another round in the chair. With something akin to a wounded whimper, he watches those eyes start to go hazy.

_Stop it! You know him!_ The voice within is frantic, desperate for him to stop. But all the soldier can think about is the pain, the mission. . . he can't go back empty handed, not again. If he does, it will be retraining and discipline, humiliation and torment. 

He doesn't want that. Who would?

The metal buckles underneath them, and he manages to jump up in time to regain his footing. Then Rogers is falling through the air, a ragdoll limp and broken, distance between them becoming greater and greater.

_NO!_ The internal scream makes his lungs ache and his eyes water. He doesn't know what makes his legs move, why he dives after the man.

The Potomac is cold and murky, but the asset has been trained for conditions like this in the past. It doesn't take long to find Rogers' limp body, sinking slowly to the river bed.

He fights the water's pull, breaking the surface with a slight gasp, but there is no response from the other man. His metal arm makes strong, sure strokes to the shore, that internal voice babbling, screaming at him to go faster. It feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest. Everything hurts, the confusion and the fear and the desperation that is not his own and yet irrevocably is. 

When he reaches the bank, he pulls the captain up, noting the odd angle of the blonde's neck. 

_No! Steve! No! Make sure he's breathing, goddammit! Steve!_ That weakness cries out, and he waits another half second, until it quiets. There is a small twinge of satisfaction in overcoming the voice.

The soldier reaches down, fleshy fingers seeking out a pulse beneath the torn fabric of Captain America's suit, but already he knows it just doesn't feel right. Blood seeps from the other man's abdomen, and as his fingers turn his neck for that heartbeat, Steve's face turns to him, blue stare blank and glassy.

There is no breath. His mission is complete.

Time stops. He stares at that face for several long moments, burning it into his memory. The lift of his brow, the soft lips. Golden strands of hair, plastered to the man's forehead. It is familiar, he realizes, this man-

_No! Not Steve!_ It feels like something snaps within him, and he knows it's the other, ripping him apart. It feels worse, so much worse than anything HYDRA had ever done to his mind. The asset falls on all fours, pain lancing through his whole being, all the while that inner voice screaming for this not to be true. His mind is in flames, all of the firewalls and protocols that had barred the other from emerging from the depths of his mind battered down as Bucky Barnes breaks free.

He feels vertigo, sick to his stomach as the world spins beneath him. The brunette rolls on his side and heaves, a HYDRA cocktail of drugs splattering on the ground. Once the contents of his stomach are emptied, Bucky turns, every single sense that he is slowly taking over pinpointed on the form behind him.

A ragged sob rips from his throat as he turns, mind still aching and confused, tears spilling down his cheeks. "No, oh God, please no. . ."

Not Steve. Not his Steve.

He knows it's futile as he breathes into the other man's mouth, willing his breath to save him. He is hyper aware that the blonde's chest will never rise and fall again without aid. Still, he diligently tries, tears streaming down his cheeks until his hands drop to his side, sobs wracking his body. Bucky's lays his forehead down upon Steve's, murmuring a prayer that they will regain their bright blue luster, that the blonde's mouth will curve up at the corners and say his name.

Memories flood through him. 

_  
Sneaking into the theater to watch Buster Keaton movies, marveling over how amazing it was that one man could do so many death defying stunts. . ._

_A badly made birthday cake, half eaten on the table while two boys watched fireworks from the window. . ._

_Slamming his fist in someone's face who bad-talked his sickly friend, no one talked about Stevie like that. . ._

_Being held close, strong hands running over his hair, calming him as he spoke his name, his number. Coming back to himself as Steve kissed him as if he was the most precious thing in the world. . ._

_Warm hands running over his body as snow fell softly all around them. Half a world away from anything they knew, but they were together, and that was enough._

Barnes screams, rage and sorrow, as he tenderly cradles the other man to his chest. This was Steve. His Steve.

And he has killed him.

Bucky holds his best friend in his arms and wails.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat had seen enough dead people to know that Steve was gone, without even having to touch him.

It's Natasha who hears the scream over the whir of the helicopter blades, who sees the flashes of blue against the shoreline. Even as she motions for Fury to get closer, her heart sinks.

The Winter Soldier is over Steve. Holding him.

Something isn't right. Not that a brainwashed killer huddled over one of the only people she might actually consider a friend could ever be right.

Fury guides the copter close enough, and she drops to the ground, gun up as she picks her way across the rocky shore.

Nat had seen enough dead people to know that Steve was gone, without even having to touch him. The Winter Soldier holds him close, shoulders shaking. 

"Get your hands off him, right now!" She spits, gun pointed directly at the brunette's head. The soldier doesn't move, doesn't look up at the sound of her treble voice. He only stares blankly down at the blonde. "I said let him go or I put a bullet in your brain."

Part of her reasons she should do it anyway.

The other man barely moves, but she can hear that gravelly whisper of his voice. "Please, just shoot." The other man says hollowly, not even looking up. His face obscured by his hair. 

"Put him down and put your hands behind your head. Now." Venom laces her voice, but the soldier refuses to look up. His grey gaze is focused on Steve's face, and for the first time, she notices the tear tracks on his cheeks. "What did you do? Tell me right now you bastard!" She cocks the gun, but the other man pays her no mind.

His hand caresses the side of Steve's face delicately, fingers ghosting over the curve of his cheekbone and his plush lips. A ragged noise rips from the soldiers mouth, and Natasha realizes that the man is sobbing. She feels frozen to the spot, unsure of what to do. It is obvious that Rogers was dead, but how could she just give up?

"How long has it been?"

Finally, the other man looks up at her, eyes turbulent. "Minutes. Hours. Who knows?" He gives a dark chuckle, and Romanov knows immediately that the man was manic. But is the man crazy with grief, or just plain crazy?

Slowly, beyond her better judgement, she lowers the gun. "Barnes." She lets the word sink in, watched the realization blossom across his face. It's like the man is coming out of a trance, James Buchanan Barnes clawing desperately to the surface. 

She gives the last nudge. "Do you want to save him?"

The soldier stares at her a long moment, as if she has grown two heads, but then fervently nods. "How?" He croaks, and she is aware that the chopper has landed and the other two men aboard are rushing their way. She holds a hand back at them, to signal them to approach with caution. Bucky catches the movement and flinches. "Please, just please! If you can save him, do it! God, please just do it!"

He sounds so hollow, so broken, that Nat drops her hand.

"I need you with me for this, Barnes. I need your full attention if we're going to save him. I need you to tell me where they kept you in cryo. Now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know this is ridiculous. But I can't kill Stevie. I just can't. I had two other ideas on how this would have ended, but they were so fricking SAD that it was affecting me too badly. Maybe I might elaborate on them in the future, but for now, you guys are going to have to appreciate the ST:ID ending. (sorry, I am a Trekkie at heart, after all~)

**Author's Note:**

> Should I write more? I have some ideas. . .


End file.
